


Mistletoe

by bjrit92



Series: Twelve Days of Drabbles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Gabriel Fluff, Gen, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:13:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16993947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjrit92/pseuds/bjrit92
Summary: On the second day of ficmas, yours truly gave to thee...mistletoe kisses and snowballs and fun by a tree! Twelve Days of Drabbles part 2!





	Mistletoe

The bunker was under attack. That much was clear. The enemy? A sweet-toothed archangel and his unending supply of Christmas cheer. He had taken in yours and the Winchesters’ disappointing amount of interest in Christmas and decided to supplement your lack of enthusiasm by tripling his own. The annoying pile of feathers could be found at any given moment putting decorations in random empty spots (how he kept finding wall space was beyond you, the bunker looked like Santa’s toy shop threw up in it) and singing Christmas carols obnoxiously loud and off-key. Not even your bedrooms had been spared. You woke up one morning to tinsel, fairy lights, and fake snow falling softly from the ceiling, disappearing before it hit the floor. It had taken the archangel half a day to get you to forgive him (not that you hadn’t tried to drag it out...you were a sucker for those puppy eyes and were nursing a crush on the angel anyway so it was only a matter of time before you caved). You had to admit, though, the effect of the snow and the twinkling lights in your room was charming, so you allowed them to stay. Your room wasn’t nearly as horrendous as the boys’ rooms, anyway.

By far the most annoying ammunition the angel was packing was his obsession with mistletoe. It was constantly popping up in the most random spots. You’d developed the habit of glancing at the ceiling of every entryway you walked through, as the mistletoe tended to appear randomly and unannounced. Dean had learned the hard way two days in that this mistletoe in particular was special: it locked you in place until you’d received a kiss to free you. Why Gabriel had chosen this particular brand of torture was beyond you. Dean had been stuck in the doorway of the library for almost an hour before you’d gotten back from the store and were able to peck his cheek. Since then, you and the boys were much more cautious around doorways. Sam was by far the worst, with his habit of reading books and walking at the same time. Nearly once a day you heard your name called in agitation and you had to go free the poor man. Dean was more cautious and had only been caught once this week. You’d wished you’d had a camera to capture his bright red face when Castiel had been the one closest to him and kissed him soundly.

Castiel and Jack had both been caught by the little plant a handful of times. It took some explaining at first for Jack to understand why he suddenly couldn’t move and why one of you kissing him was the only way to get free. He seemed thoroughly amused by this odd new game, although he’d taken to watching his steps carefully, as well.

The one you couldn’t understand was Gabriel. He was caught under the mistletoe nearly as often as Sam was. He was the one who invented the little hellish game, so why didn’t he simply get rid of it if it caused him so much trouble? You asked him once, after kissing his cheek for the third time that day.

“Aw, Sugar, where would the fun in that be? It’s all a part of spreading the love on Christmas! Besides, if my punishment is getting kisses from you, Sugarlips, it’s not a bad way to spend the day,” he finished with a wag of his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and flushed at the ridiculous nickname. The next time he was caught, you sent Castiel to him, who thought nothing of planting one smack on his lips, much to Gabriel and Dean’s collective chagrin. The mistletoe’s spontaneity slowed a bit and became more predictable after that.

You glanced up as you walked toward the doorway to the kitchen and saw the tell-tale glitter of the plant forming. Stepping around it, you entered the kitchen, where Sam and Dean were already leaning on the counters, drinking their morning coffee.

“How come you’ve never been caught by the mistletoe, y/n?” Sam asked.

“Simple,” you shrugged. “I pay attention to my surroundings.”

“Yeah, but no one is that over-observant. Even Cas has been caught once or twice,” Dean supplied.

“Not that that’s been a problem for you, Dean-o,” Gabriel responded as he walked into the room. As Dean blushed, Gabriel went to take another step and found he couldn’t. Looking sheepishly your way, you sighed in exasperation and rolled your eyes before stepping over to him and kissing his cheek.

“Speaking of unobservant. That’s the second time this morning, Gabe.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh, yeah. Sorry. I should look where I’m going more. Have you really never been caught by the mistletoe?” He asked suspiciously.

You grinned at him in triumph. “Not once!” You proudly proclaimed. “Not that it matters much, I may as well have for all the kissing I’ve had to do to all five of you the last two weeks. I’ll be glad when it’s gone for good.”

Distracted as you were by the coffee you were pouring, you missed the odd emotion that briefly played on the archangel’s face at your blasé proclamation of how much kissing you’d done recently. Sidestepping the mistletoe in the doorway, you made your way back to your bedroom.

***

Of course. Of bloody course. Now is when it happens. Now you’re too distracted to notice where you’re walking. Now, when the boys had gone to do some Christmas shopping—they still didn’t buy into the Christmas cheer thing but they had some extra money from pool hustling during the job last week and decided to buy everyone presents (you were pretty sure a certain Angel of the Lord had piqued Dean’s interest in gift-giving) and had taken an overly enthusiastic Jack along with them. Castiel and Gabriel were off on Heaven business. You were alone in the bunker and now—NOW—you’d forgotten to look up and were stuck, rooted to the spot, in the entryway of the library. You’d been here for an hour already and had discovered you could at least sit down. You’d begun to pick the link from your sweater and flick the balls toward the wall, having reread the report you’d been reading four times already.

At last, just after your two hour mark of imprisonment, you heard a flutter of wings in the next room over.

“Finally! Whoever that is, get your feathery butt in here!” You called. A bemused Gabriel came waltzing into view. You glared at him as his expression evolved into a thoroughly amused smirk.

“Oh, and what do we have here?” He asked facetiously. “The high and mighty herself trapped by such a foolish trick as cursed mistletoe?”

“I swear, Gabriel, there’s gonna be an angel on top of the tree instead of a star if you don’t get over here and kiss me.” You blushed furiously as the words left your mouth. “I’ve been here for two hours already,” You tacked on a Little desperately.

His eyes widened and he laughed at your grumpiness. His expression softened into something you couldn’t name, but it made your heart stutter in your chest. You were acutely aware of him as he sauntered toward you and gently grasped your shoulders. His head bent down and your breath caught as he softly pecked your cheek with his lips.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.”


End file.
